


Corpse Bride didn't prepare me for this

by summerfires



Series: annoying corpse ouma [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Body Horror, Can be viewed as Platonic, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Fluff, Gore, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Game, Pre-Slash, Sort of a conceptual ficlet i guess, Spoilers for V3 duh, Unreliable Narrator (sort of??), damn thats quite the combo of tags huh, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerfires/pseuds/summerfires
Summary: “I thought we agreed I was just a part of your imagination?” Ouma snickers, nuzzling into Shuichi’s back.“No we didn't. You're real, whether I like it or not, and I'm perfectly fine mentally, you've seen the medical conclusion yourself."“Duh, you didn’t tell them you see your dead archnemesis moving and talking!”It’s been over a year since the final killing game. The survivors are managing and things are starting to look up. Except for the fact that Shuichi now lives with Ouma Kokichi, who is too annoying to stay dead.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Series: annoying corpse ouma [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942672
Comments: 7
Kudos: 118





	Corpse Bride didn't prepare me for this

“It’s pretty good. What kind of tea is that?” Maki picks up her cup to her eye level, examining the bright blue liquid.

“Butterfly pea flower, plus I added some herbs and coconut water,” Shuichi readily explains. Tea has become one of the dozen hobbies he picked up in the past year to distract himself from… thoughts.

“A very pretty colour,” Himiko murmurs. “Like a magical potion. Are you secretly a witch, Saihara-kun?”

“You caught me,” he softly laughs and puts his hands up in mock defeat. His laugh dies off as he looks behind the girls’ backs at the corridor outside the kitchen. His smile slowly fades, a pale blank grimace taking its place.

A pool of blood drips out from under the bedroom door.

“Saihara-kun?” Maki asks, concern seeping into her voice. She makes the motion to turn around and take a look at whatever startled the boy. He nervously chuckles and hastily dismisses her with a wave of a hand.

“S-sorry, just… Remembered something.”

“Oh.” both girls look down. There’s a heavy silence. They avoid talking about… memories of any kind.

That’s a dirty trick on Shuichi’s part, but he won’t risk it.

The girls finish their drinks and get ready to leave - a bit too hastily, to avoid the looming atmosphere that overtook their little tea party. They agree to go to the amusement park on Sunday together and bid him farewell. Only once the door closes behind them can Shuichi finally relax and breath freely, fake saccharine smiles and a confident posture leaving him like a bad costume that doesn't fit. He leans his forehead on the cool surface of the door, taking deep breaths.

That was close.

“Amusement park, really, Shumai? You’ll have a heart attack on the first ride!”

“Shush, you, I almost had a heart attack just now.”

Shuichi rather feels than hears movement behind him. He huffs sourly.

“You’re bleeding all over the floor. It even leaked outside the door.”

“Well, excuse me, beloved, your bedroom is much smaller than the hangar. Of course it’ll leak out.”

“Harukawa-san and Yumeno-san almost saw it,” Shuichi sighs and feels arms wrapping around his waist in a weak hug and a head pressing between his shoulder blades. Wetness stains his clothes and spreads on the material like a bloody painting. "Couldn't you put a towel down or something?"

“I thought we agreed I was just a part of your imagination?” Ouma snickers, nuzzling into Shuichi’s back. The bluenette slightly winces, imagining the bloody and fleshy mess on his shirt.

“No we didn't. You're real, whether I like it or not, and I'm perfectly fine mentally, you've seen the medical conclusion yourself."

“Duh, you didn’t tell them you see your dead archnemesis moving and talking!”

“Archnemesis?” Saihara finally musters up the courage to turn around and hug Kokichi back. It’s not so bad, if he keeps his gaze forward, above the bloodied matted purple hair. He can even pretend it's more than just a human-shaped red mass. “I thought we were friends?”

“So you won’t even look at your ‘friend’? How cruel, Saihara-chan!”

“Excuse me for not enjoying you looking like mashed potatoes.”

“Rude! But alright, beloved, I forgive you. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have just the bashed head, you like that more, right? Oh, or maybe I’ll be choked? In celebration of Harukawa-chan visiting us today!”

Shuichi groans, and Ouma laughs through his crushed throat.

It’s been two months since Shuichi started living with the undead corpse of Ouma Kokichi.

  
  


It is the one year anniversary of the end of the 53rd season of Danganronpa, two months ago, when Shuichi finds himself at the local shrine. He doesn't know whether he ever was religious (damn those fake memories), but he thought that it’d be appropriate to honour the memory of his dead “classmates” and pray to let them find rest in death.

“Hey,” Ouma greets him, leaning over his shoulder. Shuichi blinks, confused, and decides he didn’t pray hard enough. “Heeey.” Find rest in death. “Are you ignoring me?!” Rest. Peace. Quiet. 

“I was under the impression you were dead?” Shuichi finally looks at him. He's too shellshocked by the absurdity of the situation to be anything other than mildly confused.

“I am, stupidhead!” Ouma points at the dark blood dripping from his head and his neck, bruised and bent at an unnatural angle. “I am an unrest spirit or something. Or a zombie.”

“Or I’m hallucinating.”

“Or you’re hallucinating, yeah,” the corpse agrees, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. Blood splashes onto Saihara's boots.

Shuichi contemplates his options. Running and screaming in terror definitely isn't one of them, at the off chance he was just hallucinating. But that's so weird, he didn't have hallucinations before. He should ask his therapist for some new prescriptions.

"But if you're dead, then why are you here?"

“That is a great question! And the answer is that I am annoying.”

Ouma (maybe) wasn't kidding when he said that the sole reason for his undead status is to annoy the hell outta Shuichi. But his mistake was the same as during the killing game: he underestimated the detective.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" something wet drips onto Shuichi's face. He carefully pries his eyes open and looks up to his unalive flatmate hovering above him. 

"Head injury today?" Saihara smiles sleepily, like that's the most mundane thing to say first thing in the morning, and reaches to cup the other boy's face, gently wiping away blood from his cheek. He can literally see the crack in his skull, bloody bone and ripped skin.

"Yup, from before the third trial!" Ouma happily reminds him and flops down on the bed.

"You don't have to remind me every time..." bluenette turns and mumbles into the pillow.

"All I am is a walking talking reminding!" Kokichi notes. "And all you are is not yet a dead human who needs to eat breakfast!" 

"Not yet? Is that a threat?"

"Yup! My sole goal in the mortal world is to annoy you to death!"

"Then hurry up and kill me or let me sleep," Shuichi shuts him up by turning and hugging him like an oversized teddy bear.

"Pff, as if I'd let you just die peacefully, fat chance," Kokichi begrudgingly hugs back and smirks. "Buuut, I could make an exception and free you of misery of going to the amusement park with your boring alive friends…"

"Wait, what? It's today?!" Shuichi almost jumps up, suddenly wide awake. He stumbles out of the bed.

"Yeah, and you're late. Did our movie marathon night fry your brain, beloved?" the undead snickers, wrapping himself in the blanket like a cocoon. It's quickly becoming too cold without a warm living body beside.

Shuichi replies something from the bathroom, muffled by the toothbrush.

"Yeah, Yeah. Whatever. Breakfast's on the table."

Shuichi splashes his face with cold water. It's nice having someone cook for you. Even if that someone is an animated corpse who only recently learned how to cook without bleeding all over the dishes. But, at least Shuichi looks… better now? Like he's actually taking care of himself. Which isn't hard to do after a year of disordered eating and barely sleeping.

He takes his usual medicine from the cabinet, all but swallows the prepared for him omelette and gets dressed. All the while Kokichi, wrapped up in blanket like a burrito, only the top of the head peeking out, continues to laze in bed. Bloodstained bed. There's probably chunks of brain or sharp bone shards amongst the thick blood clots.

"Could you do the laundry while I'm out?"

"Me? Housework?!" Ouma gasps in faux offense, pulling the blanket off of his head.

"Yeah, you. I'm not the one bleeding here."

"Keep ordering me around and you will, peasant!"

  
  


"So… Am I the only one who can see you, or…?"

"Who knows," Ouma shrugs. "But you probably shouldn't be walking around with a literal corpse, in case you're not the only one, and the cops want your sweet ass in jail for desecration."

"Fine, fine, let's pretend I'm not the only one. But then you shouldn't be hanging around me either."

They're sitting on the bench at a park, past midnight. Unlike yesterday, when they first met (like that), today Ouma had all his bones intact, but had a sickly rotten look to his flesh and there are bruised finger marks around his throat. And, unlike yesterday, Shuichi is actually sort of scared, although mostly for his mental health.

"Are you saying I should spend all my days alone?! Waah, Saihara-chan is so cruel to poor old me!"

"Please don't be so loud!"

"What, so am I not just your PTSD hallucination now?" Kokichi breaks out in his signature laugh, but it quickly devolves into hoarse coughs. There's blood on his lips and his teeth. "Aw, shit."

"Does it hurt?" despite better judgement and disgust, Shuichi gently squeezes his companion's shoulder. It's so soft, his fingers sink into the decomposing flesh even with the slight pressure. He feels nauseous, but ignores it.

"Not at all," the cough finally subdues, and Ouma spits out blood. "That's a lie, it hurts every fucking second. Worst of all, it's always different, so I can't even get used to it."

"I'm so sorry, Ouma-kun."

"If you're gonna pity me, then just go home. Leave your condolences to someone who's actually dead."

They sit in the most uncomfortable silence possible for a while, until Saihara stands up with a sigh.

"I, uh… I'll see you around?"

"It's not like I have better things to do," Ouma smiles sadly, eyes glassy and unseeing.

  
  


"Yumeno-san, do you think magic actually exists?"

"What?" Himiko looks up from her book. They decided to chill out together in a library, where it's quiet and there are little to no Danganronpa fans who'd nag them for a pic.

"I k-know it's kind of a… triggering topic, I guess, given…"

"No, no, it's fine," she closes the book and leans closer to him, a long-forgotten excited shine in her eyes, like the times she asked him and Gonta to assist her in her magic performance. "Have you… witnessed something implying magic?"

"W-well! More like, uh, supernatural stuff, I guess?"

Himiko nods enthusiastically, urging him to elaborate. Shuichi stutters for a couple of minutes, trying to put it all into words without sounding like he's completely out of his mind. Finally, he gives up.

"I think I'm haunted by a dead person," he finally confesses and slumps down on the table, hiding his face into his arms.

"Woah, for real?! How long?"

"Three months next Thursday."

"That's a while," she nods. "So, you've been haunted by a ghost for three months."

"Yes."

"Are you sure it's not…" she lightly taps on her forehead.

"No, I take antipsychotics. It's not going away, and my therapist says I'm fine."

"Nyeh, just making sure. Did it do anything dangerous?"

"No, he… it just hangs around my flat, I guess. Mostly annoys me."

"Hm…. So it's not a vengeful spirit that curses you to suffering and inevitable death. Or maybe it is, but it sucks at its job," Yumeno concludes. "I didn't feel anything weird in your flat, and nothing haunts me, so I'd say it's not evil nor contagious. I'm not sure you can exorcise it if it's not evil, so maybe you should just wait for it go away? Or befriend it. Maybe it's lonely."

"Thanks for your expertise, Yumeno-san," Shuichi sighs. "Maybe it is lonely."

  
  


"I am so, so deeply sorry for everything that happened during the game. I wish we could be friends back then, I actually genuinely wanted… better for us. I'm sorry for not reaching out to you and for not listening to you. You were right about the game, and… Sorry for letting you die like that, and sorry for messing up your final plan. It… may not seem like it, but your sacrifice was… Deeply appreciated. It wasn't for nothing. Sorry for the vile things I said to you sometimes, you didn't deserve such harsh treatment. Sorry for…"

"Are you done?" Ouma doesn't even look up to him, checking out his nails.

"It's not working?" Shuichi whines in defeat, falling face-down on his bed. "We've tried forgiveness, now apologies, we tried praying and stuff. What else is there?"

"Therapy?"

"It's a work in progress!" 

"Then maybe killing my killer? It might bring me rest," Ouma lights up at his own suggestion, standing up from the floor he was sitting on. Shuichi raises his head to glare at him. "Oh, yeah. I guess that's been taken care of already."

The faux detective drops his head back down to muffle his exasperated cursing.

It's been a week since Shuichi has met his undead ex-friend-ex-enemy-now-sort-of-friend-most-likely-hallucination, and the past couple of days he's been trying to help Ouma-kun pass away peacefully. He decided it'd be safer if they hang out at his flat (mostly because he was sure he'd be institutionalised if someone saw him talk to himself). Together they google all sorts of urban legends and beliefs about ghosts and zombies and try stuff out - after a few days ago Ouma mentioned that dying once and for all would be nice for a change, because the constant state of pain and decay isn't, quote, "poggers".

Speaking of, today he looks… Sort of nice. His whole body is casket ready pale safe from bright red blotches of discoloration and bulging purple veins, and his eyes are bloodshot and watery, but at least his skull isn't cracked open, and it's definitely a much more pleasant sight then the "pressed" look he had one time: a pulsating, bleeding, disfigured lump of meat and grind bones, broken and barely put together, rotting at the edges. The whole body a gaping infected wound, rising acidic bile to the throat from how horrid it looked.

"Say, why do you look different each time i see you?"

"Because I'm a product of your sick and twisted mind?" Kokichi sits down on the bed beside him. "You haven't seen my body, so your brain is cycling through all kinds of semi-related death stuff to fill in the blanks."

"Huh."

"Or maybe I'm an evil spirit, vengeful and bitter about all the times I almost - or finally - died."

"Oh."

"Or maybe I'm not even me, I'm a random spirit who took on the identity of Ouma Kokichi and tortures you out of boredom by constantly shifting through different gorey things."

"..."

"Or maybe…"

"Okay, okay, I got it. Would you like some tea? I recently bought some berry teas, I think you'll like them." Shuichi pulls himself up and goes to the kitchen, just to change the subject, Ouma trailing behind him.

"I mean, I can't taste, but okay."

"You can't? You've been drinking soda all the time you're at my place,"

"It's the fizzy texture for me."

"Ah, got it. I got some Panta in the fridge."

Shuichi opens his cupboard, where his collection of teas resides. He vaguely remembers Ouma saying something about having mandatory tea breaks in his organisation, back in the killing game. Even if his organisation is fake, it's still kinda sad he'd never enjoy tea again. Not like that's the biggest of his worries right now, but still.

"Oh, you look so emo right now, it's almost scary! Is me not drinking tea making you sad?" Ouma pops up to his side, a can of soda in hand. Up close he looks much worse, rotting from the inside out, skin stretching over slowly bloating flesh and subtly drooping features. "Don't worry your pretty little head! I actually was never able to taste food ever since I was born!"

"Really?" Shuichi hums to himself, putting the kettle on, willing himself to stay calm and not show any disgust. "You did like carbonated drinks and spicy stuff, it makes sense then…"

"Woah, I was joking! Don't go all detective on me now, Shumai!"

"So you just lied to me?"

"Maybe! I mean, I'm not lying when I say I can't taste anything now that I'm dead - as to back then, who cares? Anyways, enough about me, let's watch a movie or something! Maybe it'll enlighten us on how to send me to my buddy Hades once and for all!"

"Alright, what would you like to watch?"

"The corpse bride!"

"Maybe not that…"

  
  


Shuichi stares at his hand, long and intense, then finally slams the pill into his mouth and gulps it down with ice cold water, then immediately clasps hands over his cheek in pain. 

That was the last pill. He's been taking antipsychotics for exactly three months, and they didn't work at all. Or they work just fine, and his "problem" isn't mental. He likes the second option better, because it offers him the sanctuary of believing in his own mental health and stability, even if there's a nagging voice at the back of his head, reminding how this kind medication can actually worsen hallucinations and stuff.

He's completely alone in his flat, for the first time in three months after meeting the annoying undead corpse of Ouma Kokichi. Ouma told him he wanted to hang out outside by himself during the nighttime, and it was still dark, being a very early morning hour, it still settled doubt in his chest. Maybe Shuichi has just finally gotten over his fear of being alone, that urged his sick mind to make up stuff. 

Then his doorbell rings.

**Author's Note:**

> this was just an excuse for me to try and write some gorey descriptions. i may or may not will need this experience in future for another work. idk, it kinda cuts off weirdly, but i didn't have any plot for it, i just have a fetish for ouma being hurt and decomposing i guess. might write more for this premise.
> 
> i hope it comes off that i dont know myself whether shuichi is hallucinating or ouma actually is an undead
> 
> the taste thing btw is canon dialogue from salmon mode, and im a firm believer ouma actually can't taste foods and wasn't lying


End file.
